


You're Already Home

by faeverett



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Buddie First Kiss Week 2020, Day 5: Domestic, Eddie knows it, First Kiss, M/M, but Buck needs assurance, they're family and
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24559399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeverett/pseuds/faeverett
Summary: The Diaz boys fall asleep during movie night. Buck tucks them both in and starts to leave, but Eddie invites him to stay.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan “Buck” Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 403





	You're Already Home

Chris had fallen asleep on the couch about half an hour ago, tucked up against Eddie, who’d followed not long after. Buck had also missed the last act of the movie, mesmerized by the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest, the relaxation on his face, the ruffle of his breath on Chris’s hair. They’re so comfortable, familiar, snuggled together, like a real family and Buck’s heart aches. He wants to live in this moment and never go home, but as much as he yearns, and as much as Eddie says otherwise, Buck knows he’ll never be a part of it. Not like that.

The credits are rolling. Buck turns the tv off and, much to his disappointment, Eddie rouses.

He blinks, lifting his head. “I should put Chris to bed.” It’s a soft, sleepy mutter and Buck gets up before Eddie can move much more.

“Hey,” He puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and gently pushes him back down. “I got him. Don’t worry.”

“Alright, Buck.” Eddie smiles at him, expression shrouded with drowsiness. Buck’s chest squeezes at the sight and he lets his hand linger on Eddie for a few seconds too long, fingers grazing down the muscle of his arm.

Eddie closes his eyes and Buck bends to scoop up Chris, who doesn’t stir once as Buck carries him down the hall to his bedroom. He tucks him in, sets his glasses on the nightstand, runs a hand through his hair, and then, because it feels right, Buck presses a tender kiss on his temple. “Goodnight, Chris.”

He goes back to the living room and Eddie hasn’t moved. He considers, very briefly, taking Eddie to bed as well, but he has to discard the idea before his imagination can get carried away. He takes the blanket from the back of the couch to spread over his friend and tucks it around him.

Buck hesitates over Eddie, but he can’t help it. His fingers skim over Eddie’s cheek, brush through the short hair over his ear, stroke across his brow. It takes all of his self-control to resist leaving a kiss there too.

He sighs and straightens. He should go home, but he moves into the kitchen instead, to deal with the dishes he’d left in the sink earlier.

He’s almost done when he hears Eddie enter the kitchen. He starts to turn, but Eddie’s hand claps against his arm and his mouth bumps against his shoulder and Eddie moves past him, lifting himself to sit on the counter.

Buck’s entire body is tingling, electric. It was an accident, he’s sure. An unintended and unfortunate consequence of Buck trying to look around while Eddie passed by him. It’d probably hurt Eddie, Buck ramming his shoulder into his face. He should apologize.

Except maybe he’d imagined it. It’d been a quick second of the lightest pressure, an action lifted straight out of Buck’s mildest dreams. Not something Eddie would do in real life, just something Buck wished he would. He should probably still apologize, just in case.

“Buck?” Eddie’s fingers close around his wrist, startling him. “I said you can stop.” And Buck has, because he’s been standing there, paralyzed. But Eddie pulls the soapy plate from his hand and sets it back in the sink. He tugs Buck over, standing him against the counter between his legs, and dries Buck’s hands with the dish towel, eyes never leaving Buck’s face. “You okay?”

Buck has no idea what’s happening. How it’s happening. Eddie’s hands are on his, Eddie’s knees rest on either side of his hips, Eddie’s face is inches away, hair mussed from the couch, lips parted with concern. He’s dead, right? His heart has certainly skipped enough beats and his brain can’t form a single coherent thought, so it’d make sense if he were dead. He doesn’t trust his voice not to break, so he shakes his head in response to Eddie’s question.

Eddie lets out an airy chuckle. “Yeah, me too.” He tosses the dish towel and leans forward—for a split second, Buck thinks _oh, shit, he’s going to_ —but Eddie just rests his forehead on his shoulder, hands holding onto Buck’s in his lap, fingers rubbing soft circles on his palms.

Eddie’s hair tickles his cheek and Buck finds himself incapable of _not_ leaning into it and inhaling, drowning in the woodsy scent of Eddie’s shampoo.

“Thank you, Buck.” Eddie’s voice is thick. “For taking care of Chris. For always taking care of me.”

And because Buck used all his self-control earlier, he doesn’t have any left to stop himself this time. He lifts a hand to the other side of Eddie’s face and holds it, pressing his lips to Eddie’s temple. When Eddie raises his head to look at him, his lips are right there, so fuck it if Buck doesn’t press a kiss to those too.

Buck pulls back, starts to step away, already apologetic, but Eddie’s knees tighten and he stops. Eddie stares at him, expression serious. “Do it again.”

Buck’s breath catches, but he can’t deny Eddie anything, so he leans in once more.

This time, Eddie responds, raises up and clings to him, and it’s dizzying. His hand wraps around the back of Buck’s neck and he presses into Buck, his other hand roaming down to Buck’s hip. Eddie’s thumb rubs circles under the edge of his shirt. His lips part and Eddie takes advantage, shifting forward, gathering Buck more firmly between his thighs. Buck has to brace himself on the counter to withstand the urge to roll his hips.

He gets his hands on Eddie’s chest and pushes him back. Something like a whine escapes Eddie’s throat and he blinks at Buck, confused.

Buck swallows. “I…” He doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay and escalate this fantasy-come-true until he forgets that life exists outside of Eddie. “Should go.”

Eddie’s face wrinkles in distaste. “No, you fucking shouldn’t.”

Buck’s not sure how to respond with Eddie still wrapped around him. He settles on, “Chris is here. You’re tired. We can’t—” He glances away from Eddie, cheeks flushed. “I should go.”

There’s a flicker of annoyance in Eddie’s eyes and he _squeezes_ his legs around Buck. Buck lets out a strangled noise. “Chris is asleep. I want you to stay.” He releases Buck and slides off the counter, forcing Buck back a step. “But you’re right. We can’t do anything else.” Eddie intertwines their fingers and pulls him toward the hall. “But you’re not leaving.”

“Fine.” Buck releases Eddie’s hand, because he _cannot_ let Eddie take him to the bedroom. “But I’m sleeping on the couch.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest. He crosses to the couch and gathers the blanket up from where he left it before he gestures for Buck to lie down. Buck considers complaining, but the look on Eddie’s face tells him it’d do no good. So, he does what Eddie wants and Eddie tucks him in. The déjà vu isn’t lost on either of them. Eddie sits on the couch and touches Buck’s face almost exactly how he’d done it to him less than thirty minutes before.

“Eddie,” Buck clears his throat. “Why do you want me to stay?”

Eddie shrugs, his smile soft. “I like having you here in the morning.” He leans down and kisses Buck’s temple, not holding back at all. Buck’s heart stops again. “Plus, we should probably talk tomorrow.”

He gets up and Buck listens to him moving around. Eddie goes to the kitchen and there’s the splash of water and clinking of ceramic, so he must be finishing the last few dishes. The light flicks off after a few minutes and Eddie’s footsteps echo in the hall.

Buck rolls over, facing the back of the couch, and loses himself in thinking about what the hell just happened and what the shit it means and what the fuck they’re going to do tomorrow and he doesn’t hear Eddie coming back. Eddie lifts the blanket and settles down behind him, which the couch is definitely not big enough for, but Eddie doesn’t seem to care. He snuggles up against Buck’s back, his arms finding Buck’s waist, and his breath warms Buck’s neck.

Jesus, but Buck has so many feelings, he doesn’t know which to address first.

And Eddie must think that Buck’s asleep because he just presses another kiss to Buck’s shoulder and whispers, “Good night, Buck.”

As he listens to Eddie’s breathing slow behind him, Buck decides he’s happy. Even if everything blows up in the morning, which he suddenly finds himself doubting as a possibility, this is the moment he lives in now. And it’s fucking home.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a basic bitch and i live for domestic buddie. it's simple, sweet, and honestly? fits right into that "i'm not a guest here" canon. kept mine short so i have more time to read all the others, lmao.


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